Past Our Dancing Days by barnabus
Oct. 8th, 2012 10:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sinepentheA kitchen. MAN and WOMAN stand centre stage, in front of a counter with drawers. They are arguing as lights fade on.
WOMAN. Look. It’s called a double suicide pact for a reason. I kill myself, and then you kill yourself.
MAN. Why are we doing this again? Do I have to kill myself?
WOMAN. Yes.
MAN. I don’t like the smell of blood.
WOMAN. So what?
MAN. I don’t like iron either. Probably because iron smells like blood.
WOMAN. Shut up.
MAN. Don’t tell me to shut up.
WOMAN. When you shut up, I’ll stop telling you to shut up.
MAN. You shut up.
WOMAN. You’re stalling.
MAN. Am not.
WOMAN. Are too.
MAN. Am not!
WOMAN. Then do it.
MAN. You were going first.
WOMAN. It doesn’t matter who goes first. We’ll both be dead.
MAN. I’m hungry.
WOMAN. We just ate.
MAN. I can smell them cooking next door. I’m making a sandwich.
WOMAN. Take the knife!
MAN. That’s my good knife.
WOMAN. So?
MAN. I don’t want to ruin my good knife.
WOMAN. What does it matter?
MAN. It’s a matter of principle. Use one of the cheaper ones.
[WOMAN opens a drawer and puts the knife back in. She takes out another one]
MAN [sniffs]. You know I don’t like iron.
[She puts the knife back and takes out a carving knife.]
WOMAN. Is this to your satisfaction, your majesty? [She smells it.] No iron here, unless stainless steel also upsets your delicate sensibilities.
MAN. That’s a carving knife.
WOMAN. What’s wrong with that?
MAN. It’s serrated and pointy. It’ll hurt.
WOMAN. It’s going to hurt no matter what you do. For God’s sake, you’re stabbing yourself.
MAN. Does it have to be stabbing? Why are you so adamant about the stabbing?
WOMAN. Okay, fine. Let’s hear it. What’s your idea?
MAN. Start smoking.
WOMAN. I am not going to kill myself by smoking.
MAN. The warning labels say otherwise.
WOMAN. How does iron bother you but not smoke? Cigarettes smell terrible.
MAN. My mom smoked. I find it comforting.
WOMAN. You are so weird.
MAN. Smoke smells like mom. Iron smells like blood. See? There’s a difference.
WOMAN. We are not going to argue about this. We are killing ourselves, and we are killing ourselves efficiently. With no gun in the house, that means knives.
MAN. You know my stance on the ‘knife’ issue.
WOMAN. Do you want me to do it for you?
MAN. Not really, no.
WOMAN. Then what do you want?
MAN. A cigarette, come to think of it.
WOMAN. Alright. Alright, fine. Don’t want any knives? Then we won’t use any knives.
MAN. Really?
WOMAN. Yes.
WOMAN. We’ll hang ourselves.
MAN. Oh.
WOMAN. Get the rope.
MAN. I don’t think we have any.
WOMAN. Why not?
MAN. What would we need rope for?
WOMAN. Jesus, I don’t know. For just such an occasion.
[MAN sighs. He rifles through the drawers of the cabinet. He gets out some duct tape.]
MAN. How about this.
WOMAN. Are you serious?
MAN. Yes?
WOMAN. Are you stupid?
MAN. What’s wrong with duct tape? It’s sturdy.
WOMAN. What are you going to do, stick it to the ceiling?
MAN. I could wrap it around your throat or something.
WOMAN. Then what?
MAN. I squeeze it. I guess.
WOMAN. This is stupid. We’re using the knife and that’s final.
[WOMAN offers MAN the knife, hilt first. Hesitantly, he takes it.]
WOMAN. Come on.
[MAN turns toward the audience and holds the knife out in front of him. He plunges it in the crook of the arm not facing WOMAN. He gasps and falls to the floor, flailing wildly.]
MAN. Argh, the pain…
WOMAN. You must think I’m an idiot.
MAN. Can’t reply, I’m dying… dying…
[WOMAN sighs.]
MAN. Dying…
WOMAN. Get up.
MAN. I can’t, I’m too dead…
[WOMAN takes the knife and slashes MAN’s arm. He screams in pain.]
WOMAN. There. How about we turn this into a murder-suicide pact.
MAN. I didn’t agree to this pact.
WOMAN. Too late.
MAN. A pact implies mutual agreement.
[She slashes him again.]
MAN [scrambling to his feet]. Stop it!
WOMAN. I am not going to stop until you do it yourself.
MAN. I need a cigarette.
WOMAN. No. No smoking in the house.
MAN. I’m very tense. This whole situation has become very stressful.
WOMAN. I have a knife. I just slashed you. I have the final say in this matter.
MAN. I’ll be quick.
[MAN takes a carton from his pocket and puts a cigarette in his mouth. He begins to search for his lighter and then realizes that it’s on the kitchen table, between the two of them. There is a stand off as WOMAN also realizes this.]
WOMAN. If you even dare reach for the lighter, I will cut your hand off.
MAN. I’m not good with blood. I need to relax.
[MAN tentatively reaches for the lighter and WOMAN slams the knife point-first into the table. He tries again with the same result.]
WOMAN. I’ve had to put up with your smoker stench for too much of my life. It’s not going to be a part of my death, too.
MAN. Then kill yourself in a different room.
WOMAN. This is my house. I can kill myself wherever I want.
MAN. This is my house, too. I want to smoke inside for once.
WOMAN [waving the knife]. Do I need to reiterate as to why I hold the power here?
MAN. May I have the knife?
WOMAN. No.
[Beat. MAN reaches underneath and grabs the edge of the tablecloth. He pulls it quickly and grabs the lighter. He lights it, takes a deep breath, and smiles.]
MAN. The sweet smell of victory.
WOMAN. One more word about your stupid obsession with smell and I will stab you in the goddamn olfactory.
MAN. Olfactory is an adjective.
WOMAN. Shut the fuck up.
MAN. I’m just going to finish my cigarette. They’ve always had that maternal association. It’s quite soothing.
WOMAN. At least a pipe smells kind of nice. Why couldn’t you smoke pipes?
MAN. Why would I smoke a pipe?
WOMAN. I might let you smoke it inside.
MAN. Why don’t you smoke them if you like them so much?
WOMAN. That’s not the point. If you have to smoke, I’d at least prefer the more fragrant alternative.
MAN. Cigarettes are fragrant to me.
WOMAN. At least open a window to air out the place.
MAN [explodes]. No! Fuck the window, fuck your knife, fuck this whole goddamn stupid idea and fuck you.
[WOMAN is astonished. She takes a seat.]
MAN. Sorry. I’m sorry.
WOMAN. I can’t believe you.
MAN. I told you I was tense.
[Beat.]
MAN. This is pretty awkward now.
[Beat.]
MAN. Yep.
WOMAN. Do you love me?
MAN. Um. Yeah.
WOMAN. Say it.
MAN. I love you.
WOMAN. Say it like you mean it.
MAN. I did.
WOMAN. You’re lying.
MAN. No I’m not.
WOMAN. I can see it in your eyes. You really don’t love me anymore.
MAN. I do.
WOMAN. You lying bastard.
MAN. Although to be honest, I have always found you a little unstable.
WOMAN. If this is supposed to convince me not to murder you after all, it’s not working.
MAN. Can I make it up to you?
WOMAN. No.
MAN. What if I do it?
WOMAN. Do what?
MAN. Kill myself. For real this time.
WOMAN. Bullshit.
MAN. Cross my heart and hope to die. Which is the plan.
WOMAN. I’ll do it for you.
MAN. I’m a big boy. I can do it myself.
WOMAN. How can I even trust you?
MAN. Since when did you stop trusting me? Give me the knife.
WOMAN. I’m a little suspicious of your sudden change of heart.
MAN. Look, I’m sorry. I feel bad. I want you to be happy.
WOMAN. Why’s that?
MAN. Because I love you.
WOMAN. Ha.
MAN. I mean it this time.
WOMAN. So you didn’t mean it when you said it before?
MAN. Could you just give me the knife?
WOMAN. You just don’t get it.
MAN. What is it?
WOMAN. When was the last time you got me any fucking flowers?
MAN. I don’t know.
WOMAN. Do you even know what my favourite flower is?
MAN. Orchid.
WOMAN. No.
MAN. White rose.
WOMAN. No.
MAN. White orchid.
WOMAN. Jesus.
MAN. Are you going to tell me?
WOMAN. That’s not the point. The point is you don’t even know. You don’t know and you don’t care. I went into the florist’s the other day to remind myself what a tulip smells like.
MAN. Tulip.
WOMAN. Shut up. You gave me some on the first date. And… it all came back. We saw Romeo and Juliet. The production was terrible, but… it’s just… I don’t remember the last time we’ve done anything romantic. We haven’t even gone out to dinner lately. I wanted to bring it back.
MAN. Bring what back?
WOMAN. Romance! I want it back. I want it back hard. I want to know that we love each other so much we’d die for each other. Take a bullet for each other. Hold hands and jump from a burning building together.
MAN. Oh. [under his breath] That’s fucked up.
WOMAN. Sorry?
MAN. Is that really what this is all about?
WOMAN. Yes.
MAN. Why didn’t you just say so?
WOMAN. How? Why? Love isn’t a discussion. We didn’t fall in love by sitting down and talking about it. Why would sitting down and talking about it bring it back?
MAN. Why would killing ourselves bring it back?
WOMAN. It’s the gesture. The ultimate commitment. Something to make up for the years of… apathy.
MAN. Look, I know I’m not perfect, but we’re not Romeo and Juliet. There must be a better way to bring romance back than… this. Look at what we’re doing. Do you really want to end it now? If we’re going to go out, we should go out on a high note.
WOMAN. We’re past that point.
MAN. Not necessarily.
WOMAN. Do you actually plan on going through with it?
MAN. Maybe.
WOMAN. When?
MAN. I don’t know. When we’re happy.
WOMAN. So you really do love me?
MAN. Yeah.
WOMAN. I love you, too.
MAN. Are you going to be okay now? Can I put the knife away?
WOMAN. Yeah. Yeah, get rid of it.
[MAN takes the knife and goes to put the knife in the drawer.]
WOMAN. Hold on.
MAN. What?
WOMAN. Are we happy now?
MAN. Happy?
WOMAN. We seem a lot more content with each other than earlier, if not outright happy. Does that count?
MAN. I don’t think so.
WOMAN. Why not?
MAN. I was envisioning a different kind of happiness.
WOMAN. Like what?
MAN. You know, like picnics in a meadow or winning a big bear for you at the carnival.
WOMAN. Picnics?
MAN. I don’t mean those specific events necessarily.
WOMAN. I think this is as happy as we’re getting.
MAN. It’s not very happy.
WOMAN. It’s better than nothing.
MAN. I just made the house smell like smoke. You hate smoke.
WOMAN. Not entirely. It does remind me of you.
MAN. That’s sweet, but the knife is staying in the drawer.
WOMAN. Fine.
MAN. At least until I clean it. You did draw blood.
WOMAN. Yeah.
MAN. I forgive you.
[Beat.]
MAN. I’m going to go for a walk.
WOMAN. Great.
MAN. I’ll be back soon. Are you sure you’re alright?
WOMAN. Great.
[MAN leaves without saying anything further. WOMAN is left alone. She stares at the drawer. She stands up, and—
Black out.]
WOMAN. Look. It’s called a double suicide pact for a reason. I kill myself, and then you kill yourself.
MAN. Why are we doing this again? Do I have to kill myself?
WOMAN. Yes.
MAN. I don’t like the smell of blood.
WOMAN. So what?
MAN. I don’t like iron either. Probably because iron smells like blood.
WOMAN. Shut up.
MAN. Don’t tell me to shut up.
WOMAN. When you shut up, I’ll stop telling you to shut up.
MAN. You shut up.
WOMAN. You’re stalling.
MAN. Am not.
WOMAN. Are too.
MAN. Am not!
WOMAN. Then do it.
MAN. You were going first.
WOMAN. It doesn’t matter who goes first. We’ll both be dead.
MAN. I’m hungry.
WOMAN. We just ate.
MAN. I can smell them cooking next door. I’m making a sandwich.
WOMAN. Take the knife!
MAN. That’s my good knife.
WOMAN. So?
MAN. I don’t want to ruin my good knife.
WOMAN. What does it matter?
MAN. It’s a matter of principle. Use one of the cheaper ones.
[WOMAN opens a drawer and puts the knife back in. She takes out another one]
MAN [sniffs]. You know I don’t like iron.
[She puts the knife back and takes out a carving knife.]
WOMAN. Is this to your satisfaction, your majesty? [She smells it.] No iron here, unless stainless steel also upsets your delicate sensibilities.
MAN. That’s a carving knife.
WOMAN. What’s wrong with that?
MAN. It’s serrated and pointy. It’ll hurt.
WOMAN. It’s going to hurt no matter what you do. For God’s sake, you’re stabbing yourself.
MAN. Does it have to be stabbing? Why are you so adamant about the stabbing?
WOMAN. Okay, fine. Let’s hear it. What’s your idea?
MAN. Start smoking.
WOMAN. I am not going to kill myself by smoking.
MAN. The warning labels say otherwise.
WOMAN. How does iron bother you but not smoke? Cigarettes smell terrible.
MAN. My mom smoked. I find it comforting.
WOMAN. You are so weird.
MAN. Smoke smells like mom. Iron smells like blood. See? There’s a difference.
WOMAN. We are not going to argue about this. We are killing ourselves, and we are killing ourselves efficiently. With no gun in the house, that means knives.
MAN. You know my stance on the ‘knife’ issue.
WOMAN. Do you want me to do it for you?
MAN. Not really, no.
WOMAN. Then what do you want?
MAN. A cigarette, come to think of it.
WOMAN. Alright. Alright, fine. Don’t want any knives? Then we won’t use any knives.
MAN. Really?
WOMAN. Yes.
WOMAN. We’ll hang ourselves.
MAN. Oh.
WOMAN. Get the rope.
MAN. I don’t think we have any.
WOMAN. Why not?
MAN. What would we need rope for?
WOMAN. Jesus, I don’t know. For just such an occasion.
[MAN sighs. He rifles through the drawers of the cabinet. He gets out some duct tape.]
MAN. How about this.
WOMAN. Are you serious?
MAN. Yes?
WOMAN. Are you stupid?
MAN. What’s wrong with duct tape? It’s sturdy.
WOMAN. What are you going to do, stick it to the ceiling?
MAN. I could wrap it around your throat or something.
WOMAN. Then what?
MAN. I squeeze it. I guess.
WOMAN. This is stupid. We’re using the knife and that’s final.
[WOMAN offers MAN the knife, hilt first. Hesitantly, he takes it.]
WOMAN. Come on.
[MAN turns toward the audience and holds the knife out in front of him. He plunges it in the crook of the arm not facing WOMAN. He gasps and falls to the floor, flailing wildly.]
MAN. Argh, the pain…
WOMAN. You must think I’m an idiot.
MAN. Can’t reply, I’m dying… dying…
[WOMAN sighs.]
MAN. Dying…
WOMAN. Get up.
MAN. I can’t, I’m too dead…
[WOMAN takes the knife and slashes MAN’s arm. He screams in pain.]
WOMAN. There. How about we turn this into a murder-suicide pact.
MAN. I didn’t agree to this pact.
WOMAN. Too late.
MAN. A pact implies mutual agreement.
[She slashes him again.]
MAN [scrambling to his feet]. Stop it!
WOMAN. I am not going to stop until you do it yourself.
MAN. I need a cigarette.
WOMAN. No. No smoking in the house.
MAN. I’m very tense. This whole situation has become very stressful.
WOMAN. I have a knife. I just slashed you. I have the final say in this matter.
MAN. I’ll be quick.
[MAN takes a carton from his pocket and puts a cigarette in his mouth. He begins to search for his lighter and then realizes that it’s on the kitchen table, between the two of them. There is a stand off as WOMAN also realizes this.]
WOMAN. If you even dare reach for the lighter, I will cut your hand off.
MAN. I’m not good with blood. I need to relax.
[MAN tentatively reaches for the lighter and WOMAN slams the knife point-first into the table. He tries again with the same result.]
WOMAN. I’ve had to put up with your smoker stench for too much of my life. It’s not going to be a part of my death, too.
MAN. Then kill yourself in a different room.
WOMAN. This is my house. I can kill myself wherever I want.
MAN. This is my house, too. I want to smoke inside for once.
WOMAN [waving the knife]. Do I need to reiterate as to why I hold the power here?
MAN. May I have the knife?
WOMAN. No.
[Beat. MAN reaches underneath and grabs the edge of the tablecloth. He pulls it quickly and grabs the lighter. He lights it, takes a deep breath, and smiles.]
MAN. The sweet smell of victory.
WOMAN. One more word about your stupid obsession with smell and I will stab you in the goddamn olfactory.
MAN. Olfactory is an adjective.
WOMAN. Shut the fuck up.
MAN. I’m just going to finish my cigarette. They’ve always had that maternal association. It’s quite soothing.
WOMAN. At least a pipe smells kind of nice. Why couldn’t you smoke pipes?
MAN. Why would I smoke a pipe?
WOMAN. I might let you smoke it inside.
MAN. Why don’t you smoke them if you like them so much?
WOMAN. That’s not the point. If you have to smoke, I’d at least prefer the more fragrant alternative.
MAN. Cigarettes are fragrant to me.
WOMAN. At least open a window to air out the place.
MAN [explodes]. No! Fuck the window, fuck your knife, fuck this whole goddamn stupid idea and fuck you.
[WOMAN is astonished. She takes a seat.]
MAN. Sorry. I’m sorry.
WOMAN. I can’t believe you.
MAN. I told you I was tense.
[Beat.]
MAN. This is pretty awkward now.
[Beat.]
MAN. Yep.
WOMAN. Do you love me?
MAN. Um. Yeah.
WOMAN. Say it.
MAN. I love you.
WOMAN. Say it like you mean it.
MAN. I did.
WOMAN. You’re lying.
MAN. No I’m not.
WOMAN. I can see it in your eyes. You really don’t love me anymore.
MAN. I do.
WOMAN. You lying bastard.
MAN. Although to be honest, I have always found you a little unstable.
WOMAN. If this is supposed to convince me not to murder you after all, it’s not working.
MAN. Can I make it up to you?
WOMAN. No.
MAN. What if I do it?
WOMAN. Do what?
MAN. Kill myself. For real this time.
WOMAN. Bullshit.
MAN. Cross my heart and hope to die. Which is the plan.
WOMAN. I’ll do it for you.
MAN. I’m a big boy. I can do it myself.
WOMAN. How can I even trust you?
MAN. Since when did you stop trusting me? Give me the knife.
WOMAN. I’m a little suspicious of your sudden change of heart.
MAN. Look, I’m sorry. I feel bad. I want you to be happy.
WOMAN. Why’s that?
MAN. Because I love you.
WOMAN. Ha.
MAN. I mean it this time.
WOMAN. So you didn’t mean it when you said it before?
MAN. Could you just give me the knife?
WOMAN. You just don’t get it.
MAN. What is it?
WOMAN. When was the last time you got me any fucking flowers?
MAN. I don’t know.
WOMAN. Do you even know what my favourite flower is?
MAN. Orchid.
WOMAN. No.
MAN. White rose.
WOMAN. No.
MAN. White orchid.
WOMAN. Jesus.
MAN. Are you going to tell me?
WOMAN. That’s not the point. The point is you don’t even know. You don’t know and you don’t care. I went into the florist’s the other day to remind myself what a tulip smells like.
MAN. Tulip.
WOMAN. Shut up. You gave me some on the first date. And… it all came back. We saw Romeo and Juliet. The production was terrible, but… it’s just… I don’t remember the last time we’ve done anything romantic. We haven’t even gone out to dinner lately. I wanted to bring it back.
MAN. Bring what back?
WOMAN. Romance! I want it back. I want it back hard. I want to know that we love each other so much we’d die for each other. Take a bullet for each other. Hold hands and jump from a burning building together.
MAN. Oh. [under his breath] That’s fucked up.
WOMAN. Sorry?
MAN. Is that really what this is all about?
WOMAN. Yes.
MAN. Why didn’t you just say so?
WOMAN. How? Why? Love isn’t a discussion. We didn’t fall in love by sitting down and talking about it. Why would sitting down and talking about it bring it back?
MAN. Why would killing ourselves bring it back?
WOMAN. It’s the gesture. The ultimate commitment. Something to make up for the years of… apathy.
MAN. Look, I know I’m not perfect, but we’re not Romeo and Juliet. There must be a better way to bring romance back than… this. Look at what we’re doing. Do you really want to end it now? If we’re going to go out, we should go out on a high note.
WOMAN. We’re past that point.
MAN. Not necessarily.
WOMAN. Do you actually plan on going through with it?
MAN. Maybe.
WOMAN. When?
MAN. I don’t know. When we’re happy.
WOMAN. So you really do love me?
MAN. Yeah.
WOMAN. I love you, too.
MAN. Are you going to be okay now? Can I put the knife away?
WOMAN. Yeah. Yeah, get rid of it.
[MAN takes the knife and goes to put the knife in the drawer.]
WOMAN. Hold on.
MAN. What?
WOMAN. Are we happy now?
MAN. Happy?
WOMAN. We seem a lot more content with each other than earlier, if not outright happy. Does that count?
MAN. I don’t think so.
WOMAN. Why not?
MAN. I was envisioning a different kind of happiness.
WOMAN. Like what?
MAN. You know, like picnics in a meadow or winning a big bear for you at the carnival.
WOMAN. Picnics?
MAN. I don’t mean those specific events necessarily.
WOMAN. I think this is as happy as we’re getting.
MAN. It’s not very happy.
WOMAN. It’s better than nothing.
MAN. I just made the house smell like smoke. You hate smoke.
WOMAN. Not entirely. It does remind me of you.
MAN. That’s sweet, but the knife is staying in the drawer.
WOMAN. Fine.
MAN. At least until I clean it. You did draw blood.
WOMAN. Yeah.
MAN. I forgive you.
[Beat.]
MAN. I’m going to go for a walk.
WOMAN. Great.
MAN. I’ll be back soon. Are you sure you’re alright?
WOMAN. Great.
[MAN leaves without saying anything further. WOMAN is left alone. She stares at the drawer. She stands up, and—
Black out.]